


Small Gifts

by VolxdoSioda



Series: Kinktober 2019 [16]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Kinktober Day 16: Uniforms, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 01:09:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21227300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Luche gets a pleasant early morning present.





	Small Gifts

There are few things that can stop Luche’s first trip to the coffee pot in the mornings. He, like many of the others in the Glaive, are almost always awake at sunrise; sleeping in is a rare treat, best indulged on days off, or vacations. At the moment, Luche is on neither of those things, and so it’s up with the sun he gets. From there, it’s a trip to the coffee pot, to loom over the tiny machine ominously as it spits and sputters its way to fullness. He’s usually joined by Crowe or Axis, who are just as eager to get at the coffee as him. The first cup always tastes the best, which is part of the reason the spot is so coveted.

Today however, someone has beaten even Luche to the punch. And that someone is also the reason Luche is currently standing silent in the kitchen door, fingers clenched tight around his cracked, worn mug. Inside, the kitchen lights remain off, the barest sliver of dim light peeking through the faded curtains. A soft humming comes from the throat of one Noctis Lucis Caelum, accompanied by the quiet bubbling of the coffee pot. 

From the state of his bedhead, Noctis has only been awake for a few moments. That… and the fact that he’s wearing the first thing he likely found in that darkened room of theirs, which, unless Luche is heavily mistaken, is his glaive uniform. 

Luche isn’t the tallest man by any means, but the jacket seem to drown the young Prince in it’s black layers, clearly meant for someone built in an entirely different way. Still, the sight is certainly a pretty one, and he’s loathe to move, or speak, or really do anything other than stand there, listening to his Prince hum a tune and watch the pot. 

Of course, all good things must end. The pot goes quiet, and Noctis leans forward, the sleeves nearly swallowing his hands as he pulls the pot out and pours the correct amount. And then, because Noctis isn’t any flavor of stupid under the sun, he asks, “You want some, Lu?”

_ Of course. _Luche steps forward, disappointed he’s been found out, but not surprised. “If you would be so kind,” he agrees. Noctis pours him a full cup, and then slips the pot, now halfway empty, back into its holder. He knows he should put sugar in and drink it before it goes cold - that would certainly be the smart thing to do, given he’s only got an hour and a half before work beckons, and he’s back to gate duty rotation for the next eight hours. He also knows he shouldn’t let Noctis cuddle up against his side like he does next, because it’s very hard to pull away from cuddling with Noctis. The man is like a living burr, and always so delightfully warm.

All these are bad ideas, but Luche ignores them all, instead looping an arm around Noctis to draw him in; Noctis makes a pleased noise and buries his face in Luche’s chest, practically purring with contentment. 

“Ooh, cuddlepile,” Crowe steps into the kitchen, hair wild from sleep and mug with the gold-scribed words _ Bitch, Please _on the side. A late birthday gift from Noctis, one Crowe adores much like everything gifted by their little Prince. She shuffles her coffee to one hand, and then presses herself beside them, pecking Luche on the cheek and Noctis on the forehead. “Morning boys.”

“Morning Crowe,” Noctis says, coming up for air. When he tilts his face back, she kisses him properly, and then he turns his face to Luche and Luche can’t stop him doing the same. He’s so whipped, but he loves it. Loves this. Them. 

There’s a cheeky kiss planted on the back of his neck, and Luche doesn’t even have to glance back. “Ulric,” he greets, and plays coy, turning his head this way and that as Nyx comes up for a proper kiss. Noctis giggles and Crowe wolf whistles when Nyx finally gets fed up and dips him into a kiss that makes his body warm up quite a bit. 

“Shoulda known you’d be the tease,” Nyx finally says when he pulls back, tugging them both into a proper position. “Morning Crowe, Noctis.” He kisses both of them, and then moves to the pot. 

Behind him comes Libertus and Pelna, Libertus yawning and Pelna still half-wrapped in his blanket, bleary-eyed but clearly working on waking up. Libertus refuses to kiss anyone until they’ve all brushed their teeth, although he does kiss Noctis on the temple as part of their morning ritual, and Noctis does the same to him, in addition to kissing Pelna’s hands, a gesture that has Pelna whipping his blanket around Noctis, burying them both behind it. Pel can be an amorous little thing when it suits him, and morning kisses are a staple of the household, no matter how anyone’s mood reflects.

“Only enough for one cup. You wanna split, Pel?” Libertus asks, opening the cabinets above where they put their mugs, given they only drink coffee in the morning instead of throughout the day like the rest. 

Pel’s head pops out, eyes sparkling. “Yes please.” Noctis has gone and cuddled up to Pelna, and Pelna is drinking it in. Before Noctis, Pel was the only one in the group who enjoyed cuddle sessions, but now there’s two of them, and they both soak it up for all it’s worth. The amount of times Luche’s come home to find them sprawled on the couch, curled around each other like cats is far too many. 

Upstairs, someone’s alarm goes off. Pelna whines, causing everyone to turn and look. “Damned gate duty. Why did I agree to be the first one on-site?”

“Because you’re a good person who wants to get the nightmare over with?” Noctis offers, and most of the kitchen nods in agreement. 

“Smart man,” Luche offers, finally taking an enormous drink of his own coffee and recoiling as the lack of sugar bites him. Nyx and Libertus, who prefer to drink it black, both laugh at him. Libertus passes him the sugar container, and Pelna, his mug of coffee. 

“Do you have anywhere to be, Noctis?” Crowe asks, as Pelna grudgingly untangles himself from Noctis’ embrace and heads upstairs to get dressed. 

“Yeah, I got an appointment with the dentist, and then I have lessons and a round table with Dad and his council I have to be present for.”

Luche grimaces. He’s heard tales of the round tables that go on - some of them fly by quickly, efficiently. Others tend to drag on forever, depending on who the speakers and what the issues are. Titus has certainly complained more often than not. It’s one of the few weak spots he has, and Noctis takes full advantage to swoop in and take care of his Glaives. Including their stubborn, recalcitrant Commander, who can be a bit like a pissed-off Coeurl after those sessions. Luche still doesn’t know how he does it without pulling rank.

Well no. It’s Noctis. That’s how. Almost every Glaive in the city has a soft spot for His Highness, because King Regis raised a _ son, _not a tool, and only a Prince when needs must. That’s how. 

Upstairs, Luche hears his own alarm go off, and swallows down the last of his coffee. “That’s me,” he says. The mug goes into the sink, Libertus clicking his tongue in false disappointment. Luche turns to Noctis. “Can I have my uniform back now?”

“But it’s waaaaarm.”

“Yes, I know, and I need it. Give.”

Noctis pouts, but unwraps it and hands it over. Leaving him with only his boxers. Crowe makes an appreciative noise, and then says, “You know, I just remembered I don’t need to be up.”

“You’re not on shift, so no,” Luche agrees, already seeing where her line of thought is taking her. Given the rest of them are on shift, it means Crowe more or less has His Highness to himself. “Last I recall Libertus, you weren’t on shift either?”

“Nah,” Libertus takes a sip of his coffee, keeping his eyes on Luche, and not on the pretty pale skin like Crowe is doing. “I’ve got a night shift tomorrow, so I got the day off.”

“My sympathies.” A second alarm, Nyx’s. Nyx however, looks like he’s thinking of _ plans _for the Prince. “Nyx?”

“Mm?”

“Shift. Remember?”

Nyx swears softly. “But--”

“Shush. You can play with him when we get back.”

Nyx grumbles, but Luche loops an arm around his shoulders, hauling him up the stairs with him to get dressed. A few moments later there’s a cackle and a whoop, and Luche catches a last sight of their shared Prince thrown over Crowe’s shoulder as she slams the bedroom door shut. 

“Later,” Luche promises Nyx, who looks enviously at the door as unmistakable noises start coming from within. “I’ll even let you have first go at him.”

“Or,” Nyx offers, turning that gaze back to him. “I could fuck _ you, _ and make _ him _watch. In uniform, even”

“We’ll see how the day goes.”


End file.
